No, she decided, Arielle and Skye were wrong. And so was Chris. She did not have an M.O. The men had left. And she had done nothing to suggest to them that they shouldn’t wait for her. Nothing she could think of.
Men just couldn’t handle her lifestyle. It was pure and simple. And understandable. They talked a good story, but when push came to shove, they were out of there, on to greener and more predictable pastures.
Satisfied with her rationale, she finished washing up and headed out to the studio to run through the dance with Sara. It wasn’t until they were going through it a second time that Chris emerged from the patio. She looked up at him as he strode toward the men’s restroom. He was shaking his head at her, but she could still see the sparkle in his eyes and the smile on his face.
Forty-five minutes later, her father poked his head into the studio. She turned off the music and went over to hug him.
Chris couldn’t resist capturing that moment with his camera. She lived with her parents. She’d probably seen her father that morning. If not then, at least the night before. Yet she hugged him as if it had been days, weeks, months. He wasn’t sure when the last time was that his father had hugged him. Ten years, maybe? Twenty? Had he ever hugged him?
“Dad, this is Sara, my new student.” Anne rested her hand on her shoulder.
Grant Jameson reached down and shook the little girl’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Sara. Are you ready to go riding?”
“I am!” she said, jumping up and down.
Chris set down his camera and walked over to join the group. “What’s happening?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Uncle Chris, I forgot to tell you. Anne invited me over to her ranch to go riding.”
Chris blinked hard. “But we have a shoot.”
“Right, that’s why my dad is here. He’s taking Sara out to the ranch to ride with my mom and my cousin’s kids. I figured she’d enjoy that a lot more than watching you take pictures of me.”
“It’s okay, Uncle Chris. I called Mom and she said I could.”
He scowled at her ability to read his mind. “Okay, then. I guess I can come pick you up after the shoot?”
“Yeah, but don’t come too soon, okay?”
“Okay, I won’t come too soon.” He glanced over at Anne and wondered if she’d planned this to get him alone. Then he turned his attention to her father. “Hello, Mr. Jameson, I’m Sara’s uncle, Chris Newell.” And the man who’s planning to marry your daughter.
Grant chuckled as he watched his daughter’s cheeks turn pink for having failed to introduce him. “Call me Grant. Do you ride too?” he asked.
“I do.”
“Well, you’re welcome out to the ranch anytime you get the urge to play cowboy.”
“Uh, only one problem,” he said, realizing it as he spoke. “Sara and I ride English.”
“Oh!” Anne hadn’t even thought of that. “Well, considering that Sara’s a fast learner, and my mom is the best teacher around, I’m sure she can teach her western pretty fast.”
“That’s the saddle with a horn, right?”
“Right,” Anne said.
“Cool,” Sara said. “I always wanted to try that. It looks much cooler. Like real cowgirls used to ride. Is your mom a real cowgirl?”
“That, she is. And the best around. She and my brother Alex’s fiancé, that is.”
“Ohh, I can’t wait to meet them.”
“Then let’s get going.” Grant opened the door for her. “Belle and Brandon are waiting.”
“Who are Belle and Brandon?” Anne heard Sara ask as she hurried after her father.
“My nephew Matt’s children,” he answered.
Chris shook his head. “She’s in heaven. She loves riding.”
“Well, she’s welcome to come out to the ranch anytime.”
“I’m sure your mom is busy training horses and teaching classes.”
“True, but she’ll let her join any of her classes. And Alex and Cassie are out there a lot, riding with Matt’s kids. I’m sure they’ll include Sara.”
“That’s very nice of them,” he said, still in awe of the McCullough family. The fact that Anne could extend an open-ended invitation to his niece without even consulting her mother or her brother and his fiancée, told him exactly what her family was like.
“What?” she asked, eyeing him closely as if attempting to determine the reason for the moisture in his eyes.
He shook his head and quickly asked, “Cassie’s still riding even though she’s pregnant?”
“She takes it easy. She pretty much just walks the horses now and she’s stopped working with the stallions. Hey, how did you know she’s pregnant?”
Oops. “Small town,” he claimed. “Rather village.”
Anne shrugged. Too true. All he had to do was have a couple cups of coffee at the book café to learn everything there was to know about everyone in Canden Valley.
She walked over to the door, locked it, then reached for his hand and pulled him further inside the studio. “Shall we pick up where we left off?”
“Did you plan this to get me alone?”
Anne laughed. “Actually yes, but my purpose was two-fold—so Sara wasn’t bored and so I could get you alone to yell at you for being a snob.”
“Ah, so you arranged this before we, uh, yelled at each other?”
“I did,” she said in a low voice as she inched closer to him. “But this is much better.”
Chris stepped as far away as he could with her clutching his hand. “No, Anne, this is not going to happen.”
She stopped walking and turned to face him. “Why not? You want it and I want it.”
“I told you why not.”
“You’re really not going to sleep with me?”
“I’m really not going to sleep with you.”
“But you’ll do other things with me?”
“I’ll do other things with you.”
“Like what?”
“I’ll kiss you.” Although, after that last kiss, he wasn’t sure of the wisdom of that decision.
She nodded her approval. “Will you hold my hand?”
“I’ll hold your hand.”
Another nod. “Will you put your arms around me and hold me really close.”
Pure torture. “Maybe not.”
“That’s no fun.”
“Okay, I’ll put my arms around you and hold you really close.” Even if it was sheer hell.
“And will you—”
He stopped her midstream. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
“You really don’t trust me.”
“I really don’t trust you.”
She shrugged and went over to the windows and closed the curtains. He was about to object to her interference with his light, but his curiosity got the better of him. She was up to something, and he wanted to know what it was. She stood at the CD player, carefully selecting her music. Then she yanked off the sweatshirt she’d been wearing to reveal a skimpy tank top that didn’t come close to reaching the waistline of her tights. Shit. How was he supposed to spend the next hour playing serious photographer?
The music she selected surprised him. Big band era. Music from her grandparents’ generation. But then, everything he’d heard about the elder McCulloughs told him that they had influenced all of their grandchildren’s taste in music.
It was a medley of Ella Fitzgerald songs. And Anne’s dancing was just as lyrical and smooth as Ella’s voice, beginning with “A Fine Romance.”
Chris braced himself as she danced to the lyrics, her haughty movement reflecting the obvious points of the song. No kisses?
“We’ve kissed,” he protested the lyrics as she came up and danced directly in front of him.
“But no nestling or wrestling,” she said as she turned her back and danced away from him.
He laughed as she began moving to the next song on the CD. She’d made her point.
“Let’s Fall in Love” infiltrated the room. Now she tur
ned into a tease, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d actually done a strip tease, her movement was so arrogant and titillating at the same time.
Next came “Dream a Little Dream of Me,” and she moved in a way he’d never seen her dance before. Every shoulder roll, every leg lift, every head loll, every tilt of her pelvis was sensuous and languid. There was no doubt in her mind, or his, that he would be dreaming about her. But then he always did.
“Too Darn Hot,” almost destroyed him. His brain was too numb to remember what he was supposed to be doing here. Taking pictures. Instead, all he could do was stand there drooling through the majority of the song.
When “Every Time We Say Good-bye” began to play, her movement slowed. It was even sexier and more sultry as was her gaze that never left him. He wondered if she realized the irony of the lyrics. And if she could relate to them at all. He knew he could.
This was definitely not like any dancing he’d seen her do. Oh, God, now the hair flicks. She was focused on the audience this time. On him. She never seemed to take her eyes off him, not even for a moment. It was as if she were dancing for only him. Making love to him. Damn. She was. Through her dance.
He became so aroused watching her, he could hardly hold his camera. Yet he had to. He wanted to capture every movement, every sultry look in her eyes, every perfect transition. He wanted to capture it all. Even if he never shared a single one of these photographs with another living soul.
When she finally stopped, she wasn’t the only one who was breathless. “My God, what was that?” he asked as the smile on her face turned smug. And then he realized. If she couldn’t tempt him with her kisses, she’d seduce him with her dancing. Her power of persuasion, all part of the plan.
“What? I was just dancing.”
“Sure you were.”
“You didn’t like it?”
“I—I—” Shit.
“I—I what?” she teased.
“It was incredible. You’re incredible.”
“That’s all you can say?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“How you feel right now. How my dancing made you feel.”
He looked away from her for a moment. He couldn’t breathe while he was looking at her. “Once you got past your impudent and haughty attitude, I—” He looked up and met her eyes, his voice soft and raspy. “I felt as if you were making love to me through your dance.”
She raised a single eyebrow. “Good to know you’re such a keen observer.”
He shook his head at the self-satisfied expression on her face. “You’re really not going to make this easy, are you? You’re determined to wear me down.” No matter had badly my heart gets trampled in the process.
She laughed as she turned on her barefoot heel and headed for the dressing room. “That’s the plan.”
Chapter 15
When Anne emerged from the dressing room, the outfit she was wearing made the tights and tank top look like coveralls. She had an incredible body. Muscles in all the right places. Softness in the others. She was not heading home like this, he was sure. It was winter. Cold out. And she was going to be around children.
“Put something on,” he said, his voice even huskier than usual.
“I have something on,” she said, as she made her way across the room toward him.
“You call that something? What is it anyway? A negligee?”
“A teddy.” She smoothed her hand over the soft flimsy lavender garment.
“Not nearly enough to keep you warm.”
“No, that’s your job.”
“The hell it is.” He was being gruff for a reason. Self preservation. “What are you doing?”
Her hand had slipped under his shirt and she was fiddling with whatever she could find. “Seducing you,” she whispered.
He grabbed her hand to stop her, but her other one began maneuvering its way toward a much more vulnerable location. “Finishing what I started,” she said against his mouth as she slipped her tongue inside with no protest from him.
He tried to tell her no, but his mouth was too occupied to speak, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Hell, he knew he didn’t want to. But he had to. He gripped her wrist just as her hand closed around him. She didn’t stop. He pulled back from her voracious mouth.
“Anne! Unlike you, I don’t have a change of clothes with me. And I have to pick up Sara. And see your family.”
“Oh.” She stopped caressing him and released her hand. “Good point.”
His breathing slowed as he zipped his jeans back up.
“We could sneak into the B&B and get naked. Then you don’t have to worry about your clothes.”
Apparently she was still unaware that he had rented the apartment upstairs from the pub. As hard as it was to keep a secret in Canden Valley, Skye had done well to make sure that one was kept.
“I told you, we’re not having sex.”
“Maybe not, but I could do some other very interesting things to you. And you could return the favor.”
“Where? In someone’s room while they’re out for the afternoon?”
“It’s not booked up.”
“And how would you know that? Oh, right, your aunt and uncle own the place.” If he wasn’t mistaken, it was Skye’s parents who owned it. “Don’t tell me, you have a key.”
She grinned. “You’ve been researching me.”
Oh, yeah, if only she knew how much and for how long. “I told you I research my subjects. If we’re going to spend any time together at all, you’re going to have to promise to stop torturing me like this.”
Her grin turned instantly to a glower. She was good at that. “You’re no fun.”
He reached around her and smacked her sexy little ass. “And you’re a sadistic temptress.”
“Oooo, I’ve never been called that before. Hmm, that sounds like a fun role to play. Maybe I’ll try it for a while.”
He smacked her again, this time stepping away before she could hit him back, or worse kiss him again. “Behave, wench.”
“Oh, I plan to.” She gave him that seductive look of hers that made him want to throw her down on the floor.
With seductive looks and aggressive touches, how the hell was he supposed to stop himself from making love to her? He wasn’t sure it was even a possibility anymore. “Come on, put some real clothes on. I have to go pick up Sara.”
“It’s too soon,” she said.
“Fine, then we’ll go have a cup of coffee—or tea—at the café.”
“Fine,” she growled, but he could detect the smile on her face even as she turned away and headed back to the dressing room.
Five minutes later she emerged, dressed in jeans, a green turtleneck with a quilted plaid long-sleeved shirt over it, and a forest green down vest over that. And cowgirl boots. She really was a country girl. And the daughter of a cowgirl. He hadn’t often seen her in street clothes. She was usually dressed in a leotard and footless tights or shorts, and if it was cold, she pulled on one of her miscellaneous-colored sweatshirts and leg warmers—hand-knit, no doubt.
As they walked down the street toward the book café, she slipped her hand inside of his. He felt his face flush against the cold wind and his heart melted just a little more. This was all he wanted, he thought. He could be quite content spending his life side by side with the woman he loved, holding her hand as they walked down the street. And other things. But for now, he was content. Maybe Sara was right. This truth thing had its benefits.
She was silent, and he couldn’t help wondering what she was conspiring. She had a mischievous nature, and he suspected she was up to something, but when he glanced over at her, the expression on her face seemed complacent for a change. Maybe she too was content just holding hands for now.
Marianne raised a cup of coffee and a canister of tea and called out from behind the counter, “The usual?”
Chris nodded. Then Marianne held up a blueberry muffin.
Anne put up two fingers and settle
d in at the table in the corner where they had sat before. “You have a usual already? How many times have you been here?”
Every morning since he’d moved in next door. “Marianne is a fast learner.” Chris’s cell phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket and glanced down. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Hey,” he answered.
Anne watched his face as he spoke. It didn’t take her long to figure out that it was his sister. “Don’t worry, Shel, she’s in good hands. “
“I’m sure Sara is. But are you?” Chris chuckled at his sister’s response.
“Oh, yeah, very good.” Too damned good. And too damned tenacious. “Now, what do you really want?”
“To know when you’ll be home with my daughter? And are you coming for dinner? I’m about to take some chicken out of the freezer.”
“Don’t. Sit down and relax. Put your feet up for a change.”
“I’m not good at that.”
“Well, fake being good at that. It’s your one afternoon off and you have no responsibilities for a change.”
“I have a very dirty house.”
“Sara and I will help you clean it when we get back.”
“You suck at cleaning.”
“You can teach me.” It was time he learned. He wasn’t about to hire a cleaning lady for his one-room studio apartment.
“Back to dinner. Are you going to stay and eat with us?”
“I’ll tell you what. How about you pop some pop corn, turn on an old movie and relax. I’ll pick up some take-out on our way back.”
He could hear the relief in her sigh. “Sounds good. Great in fact. See you whenever.”
Chris hung up and slipped his cell phone back in his pocket. “Sorry, that was my sister. I figured she might be worried about Sara.”
“You’re close.”
“Yeah, we are.”
“You’re good with Sara.”
“She’s a great kid.”
“And she’s crazy about you.” She thanked Marianne when she set down her cup of tea and two blueberry muffins and Chris’s cup of coffee.
December Dance Page 13